Poetry again...
A Great Wagon by Rumi
When I see your face, the stones start spinning!
You appear; all studying wanders.
I lose my place.
Water turns pearly.
Fire dies down and doesn't destroy.
In your presence I don't want what I thought
I wanted, those three little hanging lamps.
Inside your face the ancient manuscripts
seem like rusty mirrors.
You breathe; new shapes appear;
and the music of a desire as widespread
as spring begins to move
like a great wagon.
Drive slowly. Some of us
walking alongside are lame.
--------